Strangelove
by MozzoJijo
Summary: Really old long lost fanfiction. Denise gives Peter a long overdue birthday present.
1. Chapter 1

Strangelove

By MozzoJijo

Chapter 1

Disparate Exchange

(Note: Do I LOOK like Martin Gore to you? Cause even if I DO kind of look like the other guy, I don't own the song!)

—-

The sun shined almost endlessly over the foraged grasslands, giving it a yellow tang throughout the surface of every plant. It was peaceful and satisfying for the most part.

As it continued towards a few hills coming, the view soon became odd for anyone who expected the season to grow, especially if the groundhog saw its shadow after all. Most people didn't care if winter came with contrary weather results; it was just nature's way of preparing them for the next season in line. In which case, only Peter and Steve could say they were ready, as they carelessly laid down on the grass, their heads rested on a tree exploited for shade.

"Sigh, what a day" said Steve amiably. He might have woken Peter up by saying so, even though the latter was too indolent to care.

"What a day indeed" Peter replied effortlessly. His hat covered his open eyes so as to make sure all was dark. As long as the day remained, the shade was never enough.

"Kind of sets the scene for spring, don't you think?" Asked Steve, exercising the same effort used by Peter a second ago, who on the other hand, seemed to convince Steve that there wasn't a reason to preoccupy on anything right now.

"Totally" Peter replied.

"Yeah" said Steve.

Both teenage boys sighed at the idea. It was nearly the end of February, giving them a chance to wait for the upcoming exams, or rush if they wanted to. Apparently they were the kind to take advantage of free time to think it all through while actually using it to relax, within a comfortable location and a climate that mimicked summer.

"Steve?" asked Peter.

"Tsup Pete?" asked Steve, his eyes closed now.

"You don't feel guilty of where you are, right?" Peter continued, forcing Steve to open his eyes and summit them towards his friend.

"Where I AM?" replied Steve, subconscious towards the implications of the comment.

"Yeah" said Peter, after adjusting his hat out of his eyes and sitting up to look at Steve, who also slightly sat up on the tree to make it easier in recollecting Peter's facial detection. Steve almost doubted how Peter really was planning all the tranquility that could've awaited them.

"Golly, unless this tree tells me, not really, I'd just freak out" replied Steve.

"No" began Peter, satiated to see Steve was for the most part listening "I'm talking about our lives"

"Our lives?" asked Steve, nearly accusing Peter of lunacy within that tone.

"Yes" Replied Peter, in hopes Steve knew what he was referring.

"Mmm, I don't know. What's wrong with our lives?" asked Steve.

"Well you see, I've been thinking" began Peter, turning towards his right side to get an image comparable to a medium shot of Steve. "There are guys like us in this cruel world, right?"

Steve looked up, distorting puzzlement with a brief scowl, wondering if he should be concerned with Peter's question, or just Peter. The assumption had to come if he didn't feel like worrying, so Peter's question it was.

"Well, I doubt it, but if you say so" replied Peter.

"JUST talking about our ages, 18 or more" said Peter, making Steve's eyes open wide.

"AH! Well doy! There's more than we can count!" replied Steve, hoping that logic had nothing to do with opening the seminar Peter was planning to reveal without request whatsoever.

"Exactly, see, here's what bothers me the most" said Peter, unaware of the aggravated hint Steve's face made after it nearly looked away. "There are two types of teens going on 19 out there. Ones like us, who're spoiled with whatever they want, and ones who are either off getting killed, exploited, or lost without family, covered in newspapers sleeping on some street, dreaming of a life wishing they'd have it at least half as good as we do every day, regardless of difference. And even though we know that, still we do nothing, not because we can't, but because we won't, sad isn't it?" All this time, Peter was only attempting to clean his conscience by allowing his friend to join him.

"Gee, that DOES sound saddening" replied Steve, a wave of sarcasm undistinguishable to his friend's ears. Thanks to that, he turned his head to lay his back on the tree once again.

"Right?" replied Peter, assuming he obtained the feedback he wanted.

"Mmm-hmm," said Steve. "That's why I don't worry about it"

Deep down, Steve was intolerable towards guilt, especially his own. All it did was remind him of how cold the world really was and unhelpful its core accomplished from him. The only effort he used was the one to forget about it, regardless of knowing he could never prevent it.

"Come on, Steve, can't you shrink your pity just enough to THINK about them for a bit?" Asked Peter with frustration. Steve converted the anger his own frustration was gaining, due to this, into potential energy to sit in a position that made him look ready to stand up. By now, Steve knew it was too late to recover the moment of peace he hoped all this would remain to be. What was left was to use the spare denial to clean out any argument he knew wasn't worth the time anymore.

"Do I have to?" asked Steve, more goaded than pissed off "Cause if that's the case, maybe I should dedicate a daily ten minutes to worry about some narcissistic peasant I'll never meet in a hundred years so I can keep wishing he had a better life and feel terrible about him until depression ends up swallowing me and shitting me out as the emo that same peasant was any-fucking-how from now on!"

"Geez, Steve, come on, do you really have to take it THAT far?"Asked Peter, thinking a smidgen of humor might keep this situation from shifting into a chew-out more than a friendly conversation. It didn't.

"OH do I?" said Steve, utilizing humor like Peter, but for the opposite deeds "Well I don't know, cause maybe you're right! I really don't know enough to say how every moment I cherish, day after day after day, is gold compared to what others have yet don't deserve but are stuck with anyhow no matter how hard they try to reach it, whether it's on their own accounts or generation after generation after generation!"

So the message was as clear as Steve's vision towards anarchy in this world. The tree's shade tried, but Steve proved that obscurity never failed to have more than just a comfortable side. Only Peter knew how to distract this idea from apparent view. He knew it was doubtful, seeing as he really wanted to worry less than Steve, yet humor was his only recurring option.

"…You're not on your period, are you?" asked Peter, struggling to contain his smile. Steve was now a mixture of anger and confusion as he processed that comment in order to figure out how ensnaring it actually was after thinking about it. Because of that, he could only try to regain the moment of angst that almost obliged him to lose his mind.

"…Shut up, man, you're nasty!" smirked Steve, noticing how Peter smiled along with him.

"Well hey, what do YOU want to talk about?" asked Peter, persisting the now friendly impression he'd guided Steve into.

"What do you think?" asked Steve, returning to the laid back arrangement unknown to any uncomforted alternative. "Nothing, that's what I came here for, to flush away my worries, is that too much to ask?"

"That depends, is a simple conversation topic too hard?" Replied Peter, almost making Steve assume he honestly wanted to get on his nerves, a tactic that failed upon hearing his reply.

"Look, man, I didn't want to talk about something THAT cynical, all right?" said Steve, who almost reminded Peter of Paige, during the time she was too sunken deep into her Vogue magazines to give a damn for Peter or his concepts of idealization towards fun, or in other words, his own beeswax.

"And yet you made an uproarious commotion on it one way or another" said Peter firmly.

"No, what I did was PROVE it wasn't a big deal by MAKING IT a big deal through your point of view!" replied Steve, thinking a mind game was at least half enough to make Peter quit.

"Oh okay, but you still made a big deal of it, right?" replied Peter, releasing a grin of insolence that waited for Steve's response.

"Yes!...No!...Yes, GAH! Who are you, my mother?" yelled Steve, caught up in a whimsical situation faithful enough to jump on Peter as though obliged to wrestle for the right to remain quiet. Peter fought back by grabbing onto his arms after he was flipped over until both were out of the shade, tumbling away like a human steamroller. They stopped after one of them was too tired to fight back, though it looked as if both hadn't much of a choice.

"For?" asked Peter, no longer caring that the clouds covered the sun, giving them all the shading they wanted without the need of a tree. Steve shuffled out of Peter's grasp in order to catch his breath before replying.

" Gasp…Cause this is…gasp…. just another reason….gasp… why I didn't want…gasp… to talk AT ALL!" said Steve, more tired, now that Peter and him chose to take it easy.

"And that would be?" asked Peter, always in the mood to get to him no matter what. This just made Steve lightly punch him in the back.

"STOP IT, PETER! You KNOW" said Steve, too tired to feel anything but humor, to Peter's fulfillment.

"Oh yeah!" said Peter, overcome by the aftermath of exercise to give a proper rebuttal. "Sure I do"

This made Steve sigh for the last time and land on the grass as the sagacity once portrayed by him, with fatigue, was torn away by apparent submission disguised as a smart-alecky avowal of frustration combined with the absurdity thanks to it.

"Wow, Pete, how I ever managed to stay friends with you for this long is beyond me!" said Steve.

"Ah, Steve, it's like they say" Began Peter, as the image of the sun finally emerging from one of the clouds left behind a reason for him to be. "Opinions are like assholes, we've all got one"

Seconds later, Peter copied his friend by allowing his body to rest on the flat grassland in monotony for a while.

—-

_In 2010, I put all my efforts into this fan fiction a few weeks before graduating High School. In 2012, I deleted it out of uncontrollable rage. As the years went by I felt painfully nostalgic and missed this fan fiction more than anything. Regret was my own punishment as I had given up too much due to the fact I thought it was gone for eternity. _

_Thanks to the creation of the miraculous tool known as the Wayback machine, it was as if a part of me I thought I didn't deserve anymore was brought back._

_Happy ending, right?_

_Not really._

_As grateful as I was to regain this fan fiction, returning to its fandom was like returning to a college you hadn't been to in almost as much time: if you saw anyone you knew, odds are they were not only going to look greyer but they wouldn't exactly look at you in such a happy way again, let alone act as if they still recognized you. _

_Heck, just a few weeks ago I tried to bring back my "original characters" which I hadn't used in 5 years…only to have them tie me up to a chair and violently interrogate me on why I did so in the first place. _

_And if you knew anything about my history with FoxTrot (which trust me: you don't want to) you'd probably know it's worse in this case._

_Muuuuuuuch worse._

_In fact, not only am I releasing this fan fiction heavily edited out for our convenience, but I removed a few subplots here and there given how the inclusion of certain characters does not bode as well with me as it used to._

_If I'm to be honest I should've just avoided the pretense that I didn't only like FoxTrot because of Denise Russo, despite my best efforts to appreciate any other character._

_So here is my once magical story reduced to just a generic tease fic._

_Enjoy._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Semi-decadal Celebration

After so many clouds made it look like a typhoon might be, like a movie, coming soon, grasslands were now too difficult to walk on, in spite of their fair level of comfort upon excluding movement. Besides, walking was one of the best methods to exercise one's mind into forming a cohesive conversation likewise. Steve had another reason, though, towards why he wanted to sit out of his usual spot under the oak tree and onto an open-air café with Peter.

They were both finished eating subs when Steve chooses the moment to intersect their walking patterns as they headed out.

"By the way" he began "what do you plan on doing this weekend?"

He asked pretending Peter knew where he was trying to guide towards; an idea that should've been thought about more if he knew the certainty of its awful purpose wasn't really going to do it justice.

"Beats me, I might just stay home, do homework and shit" said Peter, revealing the parts of his mind that scowled at his feebleness to ignore what destiny had in mind. Also the same parts which blamed him for knowing what inevitability meant once it was Steve's turn.

"Really? THIS Saturday?" asked Steve, nearly convinced by Peter's shy denial towards his subtle insinuations.

"Pretty much, is there a problem?" asked Peter, who deserved props for his clueless acting Steve knew, would never be enough to compel him to forget.

"Man, what about your birthd-?" said Steve, before both guys stopped behind their tracks.

A hand forcefully covered Steve's mouth, pushing him back a little. Peter looked up and around his surrounding sides as though he was planning a bomb to go out. Finally, he had something to worry about; something that almost activated that single schizophrenic nerve Peter never realized he'd been carrying all along.

"SSSssshhh! You want people to hear?" whispered Peter before removing his hand from Steve.

"Why, they might be watching?" asked Steve, bothered by Peter's unnecessary event. Even if he should have known better than to assume Peter might have taken it lightly.

"Steve, you're not good at keeping secrets, I know that…better yet, I respect that." implied Peter, who looked behind him just to be safe. He returned his attention to Steve after visualizing no one was following him "But don't you think this business MIGHT just be as sacred as your social security number?"

Peter was right. Steve had been with Peter long enough to understand the vow they'd made a long time ago. And what a vow it was.

Nothing could be too classified if they were to share secrets with only the both, that's what the vow stood for. The only problems were what the vow was made of, which were the secrets themselves. Steve couldn't say the vow hadn't done him a lot of good in the past all the way to the present. It taught him trust, caution, and the thrill of keeping things hidden from everyone else, something they never taught him in school, at least not well enough. Yet the fear that came with possibly breaking it was what made the future so scary.

"All right! So you're just going to let it pass for the second time in your life?" asked Steve, as he hid the dismal feelings of nostalgia he didn't want anymore. Like he had a choice, seeing as Peter didn't give him one.

"Any way I want it…THAT'S the way I need it!" replied Peter, confident about the situation if he was gritty enough to answer seconds after Steve, who wasn't going to blame him, but rather himself a couple of times, for initiating the pointless conversation. After all, it would've been more worth it if they were trading cheat codes.

"Suit yourself, pal" replied Steve weakly, no matter how evidently Peter noticed it once this business was out of the way. They both continued walking as though nothing was on their minds to keep them worrying again. Nothing other than the face they could've seen hiding behind a menu she immediately placed down after they ditched the café.

Morton Goldthwait, wearing a blonde wig, emerged from the gate, looking both ways to make sure the two were as absent to him as he was to them. Even if they were undoubtedly out of view, his mission still lacked one final detail, involving the cell phone he took out and dialed a random set of numbers before placing next to his ear.

"Morton speaking" he said, looking back at the store while he waited for a response. A small voice could vaguely be distinguished before he replied.

"That's right, in fact; his friend knows the EXACT date!" he continued. Nobody could guess who he was talking to; it was like a conversation in public between whispers.

"Steve!" he continued before walking towards a block near his home. "You're welcome, so where's MY part of the deal?" As he felt the conversation approach its end, his face distorted enough for him to relish a bombshell for only his inconvenience to measure.

"Seriously? That's it? Thanks!" he said, and dialed his cell phone again before sporting a shaft of light demonstrating a poise that couldn't fail.

"Hello? Carl? It worked! Paige and I are swinging La Maison Rouge Rendez-vous est Vendredi!…Meaning me and Paige are going out this weekend, exelsior!"

The day after that.

One o' clock in the afternoon.

Steve exited one of the shops within the Multiplex mall. He walked towards the food court; Unsatisfied to see the cologne he usually ordered was out of stock. As far as he could guess, only two things came into mind after he sat down near one of the tables. First being the conjecture for why he was here to start with, not that he didn't enjoy passing by whenever he had the chance, regardless of the cologne.

Second was the conjecture's launch, or as Steve would see, the person who sat on the other side of him near the table.

"So Denise, I got your message" said Steve, facing her, Peter's visually impaired girlfriend.

Even though it'd be wrong to be attracted to a friend's girlfriend, Steve couldn't help it. Just as long as he knew it took actual effort for Peter to understand why nobody else could pull off such grace. It could have just been that charm people like her had to make others either happy or regret depending on her mood. Too bad she could only reserve it around Peter.

"Good, I need to ask you a question" said Denise, making Steve feel as if he were talking to the boss of a foreign mafia.

"Like one you could've just asked me over the phone?" Steve replied. Which reminded him, how she ever managed to get his phone number without consulting Peter was a mystery that had to wait.

"No, this is personal. It involves Peter" replied Denise.

The thought that Denise would say it was serious and then mention Peter's name nearly gave Steve the urge to retort nastily, with a "doy". If she would've chosen to talk with his family instead, the conversation wouldn't be as discrete as it was now. He was all ears anyway, despite hoping Peter wouldn't catch them there.

"How serious are we talking?" asked Steve. Denise tilted her head up in appraisal towards the reaction Steve might release.

"His birthday" she replied, aware of the slight gasp she heard, knowing it couldn't have come from anyone else.

Thanks to other methods she'd adapted, all she had to do was listen to the sound of perspiring fret depart Steve's lungs. This became an obvious disadvantage for Steve, even as he made an effort to beat around the bush.

For Denise, that was like trying to break away from a steel cage, using your finger as a key.

"Oh…eh, what about it?" asked Steve, insinuating it wasn't a big deal.

"Exactly! What DO you know about it?" asked Denise, even as her supposition for Steve knowing he had more knowledge than she knew was correct, that didn't stop Steve from testing her to see just how disposed she was to get it out.

"Who? Me? I don't know what you're talking about" Steve faltered, newly aware he was only fighting in a match he'd already lost. Proof being Denise's antagonism slowly activating through the speed her rebuttal came.

"He never mentioned it until I heard him yesterday, so I repeat, what do you know about it?" asked Denise, what was left of her patience accompanying that question. The tricks Steve had up his sleeves were the epitome of failure to keep trying, even as he did.

"What do I look like I know?" Steve asked, rhetorically as Denise saw it.

He very much regretted that statement before releasing it from mind. The only purpose for having said it one way or the other was the doubt that convinced him it wouldn't do any harm.

Denise gave Steve the contradictory of what he was mildly expecting, in the harshest way imaginable.

"What DO you? Listen, Steve, I didn't call you to listen to BS, I heard that you knew, and now I want to know now!" bellowed Denise, jamming her fists on the table as she swiftly budged her head frontward towards Steve until it was only two inches far from his face.

She was not the kind you could just easily deceive. Sadly, it took this tantrum threat to force Steve into believing this fact from melting into doubt like he did before. This was how it felt for Steve to experience exasperation as it was nearly mistaken for fear within Denise's turf.

Knowing it was wrong either way, Steve had to upchuck the compulsory guts he needed to answer her question, since he was, as he knew, betraying his friend as he managed; a deed highly difficult to perform considering the basis carried out.

"Okay, fine!" began Steve, letting submission posses him grievously "I can't believe it had to be me…so what exactly do you want to know?"

"Peter's birthday" She replied. "Particularly the date…He never celebrates it, and I'd know because he'd invite me!"

"Long story short, here's the thing, Peter was born on a 29th of February, so to say in a leap year, and his parents have always preferred to celebrate it only on that date. Now, to make it fair, him and I always made sure this remained a secret until he moved out" said Steve.

He explained it in a manner his voice wouldn't make him look very nervous thanks to all the anxious thoughts which choked his mind from regretting to have broken the vow. Now he knew the kind of angst Peter scratched off the day they'd exited the café.

"Really? Cause if that's no lie…" said Denise, pausing two seconds to prepare her alarmed face upon knowing the disadvantage of it all.

"EEEP! What am I doing? His birthday's THIS Saturday!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

An Almost Undeniable Present

The stress that once tried to push Steve out of the situation switched towards Denise. Steve could concentrate better now that his hosting seconds had diminished and he could reply as if she was no one new.

"Doy, you thought HE wanted me to hide it from you?"

By now, a lot of things entered her mind, and indecision became the name of the sport in which the ball was more than one of those things she had to try and juggle all at once. But Denise forsook it as a sport and made a mental list out of it to her composure, which would help her decide what guide worked best amongst it.

"Great! What am I supposed to get him? It's HIS birthday after all, and even more saying it only comes once half a decade!" she said, making sure Steve didn't think she was just talking to herself "…I mean sure he forgets mine, but I don't want to! What should I get him?"

"But how could he forget yours? It's the third of May!" said Steve.

"FOURTH!"

"Look, whose side do you want me to take?"

"This isn't about us, it's about Peter!"

"So if it is, I wouldn't bother worrying, it's not like he'd enjoy your present anyway" said Steve, a glint of honesty instead of tenacity Denise could barely detect.

"Why?" She asked, trying to face the direction his voice was coming from.

"Because I'm his friend, and since he knows me as much as I, we both have an equal share of principles…or at least vows, like the one you made me break!" replied Steve, if he even made her consider guilt as a backdrop for eavesdropping.

"Well I'm his girlfriend, and he tells me everything!" replied Denise smugly, making Steve feel perfectly ready to rejoin as he lay back on the chair.

"Everything but THIS as we know it" replied Steve.

Most of the time, it was Denise who was always right amongst situations with morality. She knew it always worked around her, unless it had to do with secrets she never knew could actually stay true to their meaning. The more she knew it couldn't always go her way, the less she thought there could be the tiniest possibility.

"Fine, but that's going to stop NOW because you're going to tell me why he wouldn't appreciate my gifts" she said, suddenly aware of how adolescent she really was because of how that nearly felt.

As it came to these situations, Steve arrived at the point he knew in order to stabilize this conversation, it would have to be taken more serious now, even as he finally met the type of person Denise was on the inside. He looked at her sunglasses, knowing no other alternative, and cleared his throat.

"It's not just yours, I'm talking ANYONE'S, including his own family's" said Steve.

"Really!"

"Of course, he needs privileges to go with a birthday THAT unique"

"So what? Does he have a list of some kind?"

In his mind, Steve recalled what Peter told him a few weeks ago about the list, where he made it, how he made it, and who other than him should ever know about its contents. Then again, Steve didn't remember what Peter had mentioned on the last part, he just knew about the list, something special due to its complexity for anyone else's reference.

"Something like that" Steve said

"How long is it?"

"You can decide from one of three of his "dream presents""

"Which are?"

Steve took a deep breath, savoring how much he was going to enjoy reciting this.

"WHICH…are the following" Steve began, pointing the index finger Denise couldn't see out on her "One, Depeche Mode's Greatest Hits, hasn't even come out yet by the way, so good luck. Two, either 1 of these 5 guitars: a Fretlight FG-451; a Tregan; an Ovation; a Stratocaster, almost hard to get, so don't think finding on EBay will be your last option; and a single-pickup Supro Ozark, also quite rare. By the way, if you're going to buy either the Ovation or the Fretlight, they have to come equipped with the sheet music to at least one of Jimmy Hendrix's songs, with the exception of "Foxey Lady", unless you can get the Fretlight in dark blue or the Ovation in either dark brown or cherry red, because Peter'll only play "Foxey Lady" on the Supro Ozark, his values give him no choice. As for the Ovation, try finding one-of-a-kind guitar picks big enough to fit size eight-"

"Steve, how long have you and Peter known each other?" Denise interrupted, suspiciously content.

"Since elementary school, how come?" asked Steve before looking at her arms as they folded infuriatingly.

"So you honestly think I'm writing all of this DOWN?" asked Denise, more impatient on getting a response from Steve than before. Even when he shouldn't have, Steve began to feel cocky as relief for placing the situation under control could finally be his.

"It's either those or the DP album"

"But you said there were three!"

"I know, they were arranged in the order of which you'd most likely choose"

"Yeah, but what about the last one, I'm asking you?"

"…OH yeah...What about it?

Denise groaned a groan she could only hope was distinguishable enough for Steve to emphasize over. She even pinched the space between her eyebrows so as to contain the urge to punch his lights out.

"What do you mean "what about it"? HOW do you know I won't choose the last one if you haven't even mentioned it yet?" she asked pertinently.

"Well um, although you don't have to buy it, let's just say I still don't think you'd select it in a hundred years" replied Steve, still as cocky as ever.

"Why the heck not!" said Denise, more excitement than impatient this time around.

"It involves you"

"The more the merrier, spit it out, NOW STEVE!"

This time, Steve knew there was a furious dragon waiting to be released if he decided to keep Denise until closing time. The problem was how he remembered why this vow was denied as anything else like a promise or a pact. It was the type of information that if it were criminal, not even Guantanamo Bay could risk a prison break depending on how it was treated.

But now, the last person on the particle of the universe to even get a hint of it had come this far to divulge it. However serious it was, Steve whimsically thought about watching her reaction before pinching himself to make sure this wasn't too anything to be true.

"Okay, okay, just promise you won't slap me, but…" began Steve before getting out of his chair to sit near Denise. Scooting closely towards her ear, and away from the exciting pressure, he whispered something so brief yet so horrendous in nature for Denise to have taken it the way she just did. After he was done, Steve leaned his face back a second before she turned to confront him the best way she could.

"Are you serious?" She said. Trying to sound humorous yet killing her own smile once she repeats it "He asked for that? HE REALLY, ACTUALLY ASKED FOR THAT?"

"Since he also trusted me his life not to tell you, yes"

"Sigh, I may be blind, but how could I not see THIS coming! From a state away! He's just like a boy!"

"Really? So it has nothing to do with the given privilege as any person in the world who can't even celebrate their birth anniversary once a year like most humans could?"

"Whatever, Steve, just don't remind me!"

By now, they both remained quiet for the next minute or so. Steve without knowledge of whether he should ditch her or not and Denise under the kind of stress she knew it wouldn't be forgiving to oneself if she just avoided. Steve figured this had to be somewhat important to her. At last he came to the unlikely concept hidden in Denise's intentions.

Perhaps deep within her core, All Denise really wanted was to make Peter happy. With such happiness, he might not need to get as philosophically disturbing as he did just yesterday, when the moment they could've savored rather than misused might not disappear for once. Therefore, it was worth a shot if she really wanted to help.

"On the positive side, I also arranged the list in order which he'd like best" said Steve, relieved to see her face wasn't moping around empty space anymore.

"Really?" she asked while cupping her fingers in sanguinity "So Depeche Mode's on top?"

"Guess again" said Steve, erroneously excited when he did.

"THAT to you is positive!" Denise retorted. For that second, Steve almost laughed since he thought of Jennifer Aniston when he heard Denise snap like that, making her a carbon copy of her when it came to matching tones and slight pitch.

However funny it was, Steve knew there was a real state of affairs all along, and he could not distract himself, no matter how much he longed to by now.

"Cut me some slack, I'm thinking because you're his girlfriend, and he'd rather have it with no one else, maybe?" entailed Steve, trying to sound compassionate in the least bit.

"Steve try to see this through my…I mean, try walking in MY shoes! I want to give him a present an all, but THIS? This is friggin humiliating!" shouted Denise, returning to that indecisively dull cocoon which had encased her earlier."I might as well go home right now and see if Oprah can make up for what a waste this ALL was."

"Hey! Let's not be selfish here! You think I had any comfort telling you this without a hint of remorse?" said Steve, weakly asserting himself the first time. "Besides, it's only a lap dance"

Steve said it as though it weren't a big whoop, one of the most regrettable options someone with unfair agitation can make. Denise turned her head back towards Steve, who was watching, anticipating her moves. She stretched her arms out, reaching for his face.

Steve couldn't stop himself from recoiling in mild fear when she almost touched him.

"Hold still, Steve, I can't tell where your face is!" said Denise. Steve didn't move then, allowing Denise to finger-study his face, massaging its surface until she smiled in fulfillment.

Steve smiled too, appreciating the pleasant feeling. That was until her fingers reached the newly-formed creases from that grin, when Denise erratically turned it all around.

"It's "ONLY" a lap dance?" yelled Denise after brutally grasping onto Steve's front shirt collar, giving him the dread of a thousand feet above the air, due to his acrophobia. "EXACTLY LIKE ANY TOXIC PRICK! YOU THINK IT'S "ONLY" A LAP DANCE?

"Umm…Yes?" squeaked Steve, afraid he might stutter.

" Oh fine…then don't mind if I "ONLY" hurt you, Steve! What do you think of that?" exclaimed Denise, raising a clenched fist above the air. And now, Steve was pretending it could be any other organ that didn't pump blood which he could heavily hear through his shirt.

He'd forgotten how a mother's rage was analogous to a tornado chasing you, but until he would find himself in the implausible likelihood of enduring that feeling, a girlfriend's rage was more than enough to cure his once ongoing interest, with more than every right to fear. What hurt more than the pain of a girl's attack was the humiliation that came with it as she threatened you. Not that Steve felt any more self-esteem as he struggled his way out.

"Please no, please no, please no please no, please no, PLEEEEEAAAAASE!" cried Steve, no longer concerned if anyone was looking, unless it was the fist she might scramble his face with. He began to remember how he should've just departed by now, there wasn't any liable point in being there, although he regret wishing Peter wouldn't catch them right then. But no wonder he was good at keeping a good relationship, unlike Steve himself.

The way Denise didn't have to find mercy for anyone mainly because she couldn't see it was what surprisingly limited her less. If Steve knew, he'd be the last to desire serving as an example.

"Then tell me with that useless squeaky voice of yours HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO GET PETER THE PRESENT OF A LIFETIME IF I CAN'T GET HIM SOMETHING AS CHEAP AS AN ALBUM, AS easily forgetful AS A GUITAR, OR AS REPULSIVE AS A CABARET THAT REQUIRES ME TO DANCE LIKE A FUCKING SLUT?" Yelled Denise, not even concerned how people might be watching, and were.

"I…I-I don't know!...y-you can get him both, I-I…" stuttered Steve, which in his own mental language was translated to a part of his will. "BOTH? WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT BS, STEVE! YOU THINK I CAN GET HIM TWO THINGS OUT OF THAT WANTON LIST WITHOUT-?" yelled Denise, before an epiphany-like sense came out of her mind. Steve tried to make sure it was just sweat and not tears he felt coming from his face. Meanwhile, Denise used her other hand to massage her chin as a way to ease her thinking. Suddenly, a convincing smile gave her an idea unlike any other waiting for her to use wisely.

"Actually" she began, giving up her clench on Steve's shirt. "I think a perfect "solution" might be in order"

Denise at last assumed she got what she came for. All it would take was some time and help if she was to guarantee its perfection. Steve could only wish he could read her every thought.

"Soooooooo…am I off the hook?" asked Steve, assuming it was over.

"Oh no, my good Steve, Peter's going to know-!" replied Denise

"WHAT? No, Denise, don't! We're friends since elementary school, remember? If he knew, I'd…" said Steve, before Denise laid both hands on his shoulders, knowing that would stop him.

"Calm down, Steve, I wasn't finished! Peter's going to know, unless you can teach me how it's done"

"How what's done?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know what you're-" said Steve, when his own shocking insight interrupted him. "Me? OHHHH NO NO NO NO NO! What makes you think I know?"

If Denise's sunglasses could've been more see-through, it would've been ample for Steve to tell she rolled her eyes at the statement.

"Oh please, Peter told me you watched tons of that stuff and that he even caught you trying to perform it " said Denise, at last making Steve feel he also had the right to protest furiously.

"HE DID? I trusted him not to tell anyone! He also broke the vow...Screw it, I'm not helping you now, even if I DO know!" said Steve, in the middle of getting up, and he would've completely without the swift movement of one exasperated hand. _Bad night to wear my Che Guevara shirt_, he thought.

"How about I slap you anyway?" asked Denise, holding Steve so close, their noses bumped. Steve was less likely to feel comfortable in deciding, aware he was finally given a clue towards how his pain might arrive.

"All right! We'll do it your way, can you let go now?" replied Steve, now more concerned about the witnesses surrounding him than his trepidation.

"That's what I like to hear" said Denise, carelessly letting go of Steve, who consequently, almost fell off the chair "Today…meet me at my house, seven o' clock sharp" said Denise, standing up.

"Geez, you're crazy!" claimed Steve, wishing he could've adjoined "bitch" at the end.

"Oh man up! Peter puts up with me EVERY day" Denise retaliated, before picking up both her white cane and cell phone from her pocket simultaneously.

_This isn't a present, it's a punishment!_ Steve told himself as he walked to the doors heading out. Hoping he might get paid if she was actually predisposed to follow his instructions.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

In and Out of The Coffee House

Peter and Denise sat together, inside a coffee house, half past ten at night. The best part was the way they were distracted towards each other enough to seem blasé upon realizing the hour that stood.

"I honestly thought there were only three factors of the epistemology in Knowledge Theory" said Peter, barely drinking his cup. His life had been compiled of constant coffee jokes, one after another, until he started taking it as a risk.

"And now you know there's no more than four" replied Denise, who on the contrary tried to finish her coffee as quickly as possible.

"Yeah" said Peter, believing he really understood just to become a hoax in exposure himself "But I don't get it. To me, Knower's sources and applications is just a rehash of what Justifications of claims tells us"

"And yet they're two completely unrelated topics within the same category" replied Denise, after finishing her coffee completely to Peter's surprise. Knowing that, he figured he should worry about one thing at a time if not her sudden coffee yearning first.

"But how?" He asked, directing her attention back at him.

"First of all, it's called JUSTIFICATION of Knowledge claims." Said Denise so quickly that Peter could barely understand her. "It's the practice that comes after Knower's sources since the first one needs the second one in order to be validated, especially given how the Justifications are what the Knower's sources' facts need to be carried out once under oath"

Denise was only making it hard on Peter through the excess coffee, believing she might as well try her hand at freestyle rapping. He barely understood each word when stuck together that manner.

"Oh, well hey! I didn't know the band had to do with Knowledge theory!" said Peter. Now he was nervous as he saw her lay a palm on her forehead impatiently, taking up more energy than she released later then.

"This is Judicial Trial procedure, Peter! Second, Under oath is two words! Got it?" she replied, knowing it'd be enough to fit though his noggin.

"Oh!...Heehee, sorry" replied Peter, believing the power of humor was still his forlorn strength.

"Heehee, looks like someone wasn't paying attention in class" said Denise, knowing how to make sure every power had its kryptonite. Peter was enjoying this as much as he enjoyed telling his parents why he nearly failed one or more subject, relatively speaking.

"It's not my fault, okay? I WAS paying attention, It's just…I…" said Peter, wishing he wouldn't be interrupted, one wish that didn't come true at the moment.

"Was distracted?" asked Denise, answering his question. Ease came onto his mind after that interruption as it all started to organize itself better for Peter's phrase.

"…No, I forgot…yeah! That's it! I forgot!"

"You forgot"

"Yeah, I'm good at accidentally forgetting stuff…unless it had to do with something that bothered me"

Denise found key words. There was still time to impulse him to give in towards the undeniable fact this all was heading towards. Peter had never been so good with keeping secrets, except for now. Regardless of Steve's share, perhaps Denise was still underestimating their vow.

"And what seems to be the problem here, Peter?" asked Denise, also barely comprehensible. Now it seemed as if Peter was protecting her from a truth she already knew, one irate situation that consequentially, couldn't be fixed right away.

"…I'm not sure…it's just…" said Peter. He paused until there was an empathetic outline subtle enough for both to satisfy "have you ever had any regrets in your life?"

Denise followed Peter as she took the time to absorb the question just as much. Making sure there wasn't anything she might be forgetting, but there was so much she could recuperate when memory was the prime meridian. She didn't know if it was wrong for her to assume that she knew what he meant by that term: regrets. All doubt could do was guide her towards more of them.

"…To be honest, no! I've always been thankful with what I've had; it made others feel more grateful when they saw me, making me feel grateful too" replied Denise, still thinking under the influence of caffeine. "As for my recent actions…it's hard to say...I don't think I've done anything wrong lately"

"That's where I'm heading!: Towards something you always screw up on that you don't become aware of until someone tells you, or you find out for yourself later on" Replied Peter, who discovered, to his consternation, how revealing the answer really was if Denise was paying close attention.

"Like what?" asked Denise, who was curious once again.

By now, the pressure Peter had to change topic or drive around the whole instead of flying over it had reached a new nonnegotiable height. He turned his head to face her; she didn't look that desperate, although no one did when it came to smiles.

"…Nothing, never mind" said Peter, looking away as he knew she'd barely note.

"Peter, tell me" said Denise, laying a hand on his shoulder, making Peter feel the stress now copying Jason's tactics when it came to sibling-like annoyance, one which to this day, he couldn't overcome.

"No really, let's just drop it, okay?"

"Come on Peter, why is it classified all of a sudden?"

"Deniiiise, come on, I said I don't want to talk about it!"

"Why not?"

"I just don't, is that so much to ask for?"

"It is if you think I can't help"

Peter took a moment to look at her. Usually, when it came to taking business this far, it should've been with someone like his mother, or at least Steve. On the other hand, most of that proof came within the location rather than the subject.

"…Okay, fine! But can we discuss it at MY place?" replied Peter.

Now it all made sense. The moment Denise had waited for was finally turning itself in to her abiding will, almost as an unexpectedly superfluous key to ignite the plan at hand.

"SURE!...I mean, why go there?" asked Denise, knowing how that retort had given away either her own secrecy or all the energy left from the coffee.

"Because…if it has to get personal, I might as well tell you somewhere I get chewed out more often" said Peter, never minding the somber tone he'd fortuitously adjusted.

"Whatever fits your best! Let's go then!" she replied before they both got up, Peter guided her out of the coffee house, into the Camry and drove off.

The drive back home felt calmer than she was used to, or was it just because of the influence coffee had on her behavior? It really didn't matter now that it was the least of her suspicious quarrels. Denise honestly wanted to know what was happening with Peter. She couldn't stand two seconds of quiet driving without hearing a word, whether it took a regular conversation to bring everything back to normal or not.

"I don't get it, Peter, what's going on? Why has everything been constant secrecy with you lately?" she asked, thinking subtlety wasn't the only way to go.

Although he had his eyes on it very much, Peter tried to make sure the road was also the only thing he was focused on, forced to stay discrete unless anything could come out.

"I have my days" he replied, nearly ignoring her question.

As if Denise couldn't tell how unusual he was reacting, now he was making an actual effort to preserve the fall out for back home like he'd promised. This made Denise squirm inside with agitation. Her only objective to make sure there wasn't anything Peter was having trouble coping with, even if that anything was her.

"Since when?" she asked.

"Since right now, okay?" replied Peter, wondering how far he had to go for a smidgen of peace. "Denise, haven't you ever had at least one problem in your life big enough to keep to yourself?"

Absorbing the question, Denise started to take into account nostalgia, if it had anything to do with it.

"This wouldn't have to do with that little incident down at _La Maison Rouge_, right?" she asked.

"No…and just so you know, I'm not mad at you anymore, not that I forgot!" replied Peter, answering one of Denise's unasked questions, in which she was guided to mimic the action.

"Then no, I've only had ones you'd understand, right?"

"Only if you understand why I'd rather keep MY skeletons in the closet"

Peter pushed onto the break once he saw the front garage of where he'd parked. After placing the clutch in "P" and turning the rest of the car off, he walked towards Denise's side and grabbed her hand to lead her near the door.

"But know that I can help, really! Just tell me what it is! It's not like I trust YOU any less" replied Denise, no longer able to contain but a small hint of stubborn will. Peter opened the door, knowing he might as well spill the frijoles as they both entered the house.

"Ugh, if you have to know, then…the thing is, today was supposed to be my…" began Peter, at the same time perplexed by the house's inexplicably silent upheaval. "Hey! Where'd everybody go?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Peter's present

Peter began to recall something about his siblings' simultaneous sleepovers at their friends' homes. As clear as they were at least, this had nothing to do with his Parents' absences. He turned on the lights to make sure they weren't off resting in the kitchen.

Or in the living room.

Once they both walked into it, Peter switched the lights on, disallowing a deservedly shocked expression to inhibit his puzzlement. Denise only searched through that same spot, using exclusively her white cane, nearly forfeiting to ignore the situation Peter had just found himself in.

"Weird, what did they do to the living room?" Peter asked, grabbing one of the eight candles which stood serenely on the table with the others. There were almost enough to cover every single edge of the table, when he catches another item.

"Oh… a note, they left a note." said Peter, grabbing the post-it in order to acknowledge the seemingly familiar handwriting within its context. It confused him enough so as to keep him less attentive, especially when there was no one else to see Denise press the insert button on a stereo system and close it once more.

Even after he finished, Peter never directed his eyesight away from the paper.

"Denise, it says here my parents-" began Peter, before he actually found the site where Denise inexplicably stood.

"-were "invited to a party and said they'd be back by midnight", yeah I know" she finished for him.

Such a moment there was for Peter to both understand what she had just uttered and read simultaneously. It was either the word-by-word comparison that succeeded in impressing him, or Denise's lingering posture, indicating there was something beyond fishy happening about her.

"Yes…" said Peter, before forbidding constructive surprise to enlighten any of his worries. "You KNEW?"

Denise could hear both the growing anger in his tone and how forcefully he stood from the chair. A beef was indeed supposed to form from all of this, at least according to her plan.

"Peter, I know what's going on" said Denise, making it clear to Peter's choice towards initiating this dilemma. It was time to come clean.

"Other than the likely fact you hired someone to stalk me?" replied Peter, officially confused to the point he wanted to yell at her, though he simply almost did. Denise managed to ignore his cold tone and empowered her efforts to make all of this float her boat. Knowing the exact spot, she reached for it on the candle embellished table beside her.

"Maybe this ought to turn some more lights on" she said, suspiciously saccharine about it.

Peter saw Denise's hand reach and grab a party hat he'd forgotten lied there and then place it on her head. After she hooked the rubber string on her chin, Peter retorted "So you DID know about today!…But how? You WERE stalking me?"

"Actually I sent someone else to spy on you and Steve, who told me everything, how limited your birthday was, he then convinced his parents and yours to get together."

"But why?"

"Peter, give me a break! It's your birthday, only one of the thousand events everyone should cherish, and you keep that a secret from me?"

Just because he was used to Denise's chew outs didn't mean he couldn't fight back. Peter knew she had just entered his clandestine world of secret rights from where even freemasons wished they could receive a hint. No one outside the vow circle had the authority to join in his misery, not even his girlfriend.

"It's not MY fault, my mother thinks it's appropriate to make mine less recurring than the Olympics, I always wanted it to happen once a year, like everyone else!" retaliated Peter.

"So what? Is that still a legit reason to live in isolation about it?" replied Denise, sitting on the table, within the only space unoccupied by candles. "Besides, I don't hide MY birthdays from you, do I?"

"Even if yours ALSO came every four years, haven't I forgotten them once?"

"…Yes… but only once is enough for me! I care about you Peter because you still remembered it, but more if it's someone like you who's there to make it special."

"Sigh, sure if you consider Mozart playing jewel boxes…as a present for someone like you special"

"And still I LOVED that present; enough to wish you'd just have to remember all my other birthdays to suffice from now on."

Denise's logic, backed up with fluent sympathy, took Peter by ambush towards his resolve. Apparently, it didn't matter what condition he chose to find himself in, even when in it was a strict one this case. So now Peter felt like acquiescence had to be his only solution, until he saw an epiphany hit his mind

"But wait! This is still wrong! I can't believe it wasn't enough for Steve to reveal my secret out loud, but to you?" said Peter.

By now, Denise wondered if Peter had at least suspected how much she'd planned this out. The last thing she wanted was to initiate an argument, ruining her plans time-wise and the rare mood as well. She just had to kick it up a notch, no matter what she revealed.

"Well duh, I also told him what you told me about his penthouse obsession"

"You did?"

"Yeah, that way you guys wouldn't fight"

"Oh…well that worked FOR NOW!"

"Yeah, but why not do this instead? It's what you've always wanted, isn't it?"

Now it was all up to containing ample courage to barge into the entrance and know the present of Peter's long awaited wish. He may have been a little premature when he made that wish, being 16 and all, but as judgmental circumstances could tell him, he was only 16 at the time. Making an ironic twist out of his departure from adolescence, a time when if he were still in it, he'd forget about compromises and edgily articulate a yes after what she'd just asked him.

"Fine, but…I don't know. It's not that I don't want it, I'm just not sure anymore. The only reason I wished for that was because it was impossible" replied Peter, rubbing the back of his head in discrepancy. "I was sixteen, so aren't you offended in anyway? You're my girlfriend, not some hot shot stripper; I can't have you doing this, Denis"

"What? You can't imagine me or you doubt I can do it? Cause if I didn't want to, none of it would've been brought up right now!" said Denise amusingly.

"I'm not saying that, it's just…I don't know if you're confident like I was to picture…"

"Look Peter, take it easy…for two years, you've had this fantasy distracting you from looking at me the same way, two years! Since we've met as a matter of fact" She interrupted, standing up from the table. "If anything, you deserve enough presents to make up for those lost years, or at least some attention for it. That's why I'm here, because I'm your girlfriend, and unlike your family, I for one think you deserve, or might as well say earned, more than just plain old smooches just this once."

"Okay, I wish I could argue with that, but did you really make Steve tell you everything?" asked Peter, wondering how surprised, according to his original expectations, he was supposed to feel by now.

"Not everything…" said Denise, before disclosing the empty CD cartridge for Peter to see himself. She waited for the seconds it took to strike an astonished glaze across Peter's face. The same glaze he wanted to hold expressively for so long.

"…Just all I needed to know"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Strangelove

It was all coming back to Peter; he didn't want to deny it anymore than all those neglected instances which defined his wishy-washy nature. Whether it was fluked baseball games or unimpressive grades, they were history now. All he wanted was to prepare himself for what he could only trust was true and also eliminate his ability to worry.

"…Is that…really…?" he barely asked, the CD case which contained the words "Depeche Mode. The Best Of: Volume 1" lingered in his unfastened vision. Imagining it could've belonged to him now that it made him overjoyed and unknown if the mere image was supposed to turn him on, due to maybe fantasizing what was yet to come.

"Oh no, this is just ONE present" replied Denise, laying the case on the floor while taking hold of another party hat. Peter didn't know what to say, so he spoke the truth if that's all his vacillation could give him.

"I love you, Denise"

The words would've made her pause without deciding when to continue. Then Peter saw as her face spared an unruffled grin, ready to resume her current mission as he took pleasure from her reaction. Safe to say she was about to kiss him as she leaned towards his face until he saw her hands stretch the rubber string from the party hat.

"You've only wished for this since we've met" she replied provocatively, attaching the cone-like bonnet onto his chin, and on top of his head that wore his "A" marked hat. "Now, these two presents I'm about to give you, are all yours".

Denise was right. Peter was mystified with elation after knowing this idea worked even better when aged well. Sixteen could've been a rush, now he didn't want to be one to ruin his own fiesta. He didn't ask her to tell him when she'd begin, as she just did. A start was watching her overriding hand grab hold of the remote as if it was a weapon and point it behind her, pressing a button that initiated sound. First, the band's name appeared on the stereo's screen so she could skip all the way to the eighth track, ready to bring her into action.

_Strangelove._

The moves started at the same time the music did. On top of that, Peter felt an otherworldly sensation emerge from his gut from the first minute. It was close to a colorful vibe only apt to experience when it entered both the ears, eyes, and produced a smarmy yet powerful sensation within the stomach, as you felt it rhythmically slither through your system, deactivating your scorn aptitude.

He could never tell how Denise closed her eyes, because of her sunglasses, after pulling moves which could never keep him from opening his own to the measurable extent of echoing the feat with his eyebrows.

A mixture of ballet and oily strip moves conquered Denise's body, her hands fumbled around her stomach, occasionally separating them diagonally or horizontally. The music seemed to be doing all the work as prepared as she might've been, suddenly remembering what Steve told her.

"_Choreography is obviously the cake, but icing comes in all the energy you feel once the beat plays. Cos' when it does, you'll soon feel the instruments moving you alone; it's the music that pulls the strings to actual dancing."_

Denise decided to get used to recalling Steve's numerous guidance quotes as a method of assuring that she wasn't going to fail. Proof were the flashy colors that revolved around her once black view as they didn't just come from the music, but guided her towards every dance pace as the first sixteen seconds of outwardly macabre synthesizer sounds unfastened the song: Transporting them back to the late eighties, what some assessed as a different world where instruments became advanced enough to combine dance music with eroticism, making the song the most obvious of choices out of all the other dozen in the cartridge. Each beat was met with a get-together from the same hands on the abdominal obliques between her stomach, slowly turning towards her right while maintaining the quaver until the opening verse came on.

_There'll be times_  
_When my crimes_  
_Will seem almost unforgivable_  
_I give in to sin_  
_Because you have to make this life livable_

Denise performed a grinding circle, to Peter's startling disclosure, whilst the singer's voice echoed. She never assumed it could've been so easy after four hours of practice. The combination of music with Denise's swift waist scoots and sign-language-like patterns enforced Peter's smile, making him actually see her shifting movement.

The beginning of the song, however, wasn't more than a harmless dance a normal albeit showoff teenager would've performed in a nightclub. Nothing exotic appeared immediately, but Peter was far from bored; he was enjoying this enough to keep him from worrying anything fun was on its way to activate his impatience for procrastinating.

"_I'm not sure if you already knew this, but Peter's not the kind of guy you can easily surprise if you want to pull this off, even with the song! You're going to have to enter uncharted territory. Let him see you in a way even you'd feel embarrassed and know it!"_

Most of the seconds of voiced music were just Denise proceeding hip tilts and circles before the chorus lapsed. At least for Peter, too distracted to notice her hands as she grabbed onto her shoelaces and untied them without the proper reassurance. The four seconds which remained were when she kicked her shoes off. Not the action, rather than the resulting invisibility of socks on her bare feet, which for some reason, gave Peter an uncanny and delectable turbulence in his bladder. He thought she was really going to do this, now he knew.

_But when you think I've had enough_  
_From your sea of love_  
_I'll take more than another river full_  
_Yes, and I'll make it all worthwhile_  
_I'll make your heart smile_

It was now time for Denise to take hold of her white cane once the same scary music that opened the song came on and began to dance with it as if it were fashionable enough to combine Fred Astaire's and Madonna's legacy of sexually saliency. She moved from side to side, modeling with the cane by touching her surroundings through its whip-like ascendancy. Resistance was as useless as pretending Denise wasn't dancing to prove how Rubik's cubes couldn't handle shape shifting without a seconds pause, or that she even had that disability.

_Strangelove_  
_Strange highs and strange lows_  
_Strangelove_  
_That's how my love goes_  
_Strange love_  
_Will you give it to me_

Denise reacted to when the vocalist first uttered the song's title and slowly did the unpredictable by inserting the walking stick into her shirt's collar. It came out of the sleeve on Peter's left side, where she tucked the entire arm back in and flipped the stick 180 degrees to his right. Following the rhythm as she turned her shirt inside out and removing it eventually. She shook it loose from the remaining sleeve until only grabbing it enough to liberally fling it right at Peter's face.

"Oh my dear, loving savior" Peter whispered to himself as indecision made him concurrently look at her and the shirt he now grasped. He assumed he might want to look away if he ever was invited to a striptease. And as far as assumptions went, he was wrong. He didn't want to stop himself from admiring her uncovered self. She at least made him smile, having seen her in bathing suits before, so if anything, nothing had really startled him yet.

Glad to have drunken all that coffee after hearing Peter almost interpolate out loud, it was unknowing if it would've been possible to catch up with the music in such a sleepy state. It gave Denise all the energy to pay attention to the song's pattern and release it along with everything that went with her fortitude such as using her white cane to follow her own movements, matching the rhythm, and shaking it alongside her body like a pompom. Speaking of which, Peter recalled the time Denise told him about her dreams, lost opportunities, the activities she was forced to relinquish all because of her receptive shortcoming. he may have been impressed at that time, and definitely now, but that never stopped him from imagining the kind of spectacle all those coaches from all the schools might have missed out on due to the disability that overshadowed her gift. Denise was a cheerleader with unemployed, and for that, wasted talent.

Tonight, however, proved it all wrong.

_Will you take the pain_  
_I will give to you_  
_Again and again_  
_And will you return it_

She continued twirling, massaging her stomach slowly on few occasions, leading her to stop and do a provocative belly dance for the remaining chorus. This took more work than she'd assumed, and it was hurting her shoulders. The art of lap dancing was a highly under-appreciated art, at least according to Steve. Her being one of the many who thought it didn't really need kudos. Not that she needed to be a guy like Peter to give it as he found guilty pleasure from visually tasting the black 29D push-up bra she wore, matching her glasses coincidentally enough to call it erotic juxtaposition.

Using her now shirtless advantage to abide by Steve's suggestion, she tried to see if his numerous words of wisdom might help, although it was easier to turn red from the action than exercise it.

"_If it comes of ease, just pretend Peter is the dummy, a breathing dummy to be exact, okay?"_

When she practiced this next move, Denise had to use a dummy to get rid of the fear of actually performing this on Peter. All her effort was so mashed up in pretending she was flawlessly secure, there was rarely time to mull over a chance she might do this right. It was all out of the way as she put her cane down before approaching her boyfriend.

Peter saw and could only feel his smile stretch to impending dismay once his jaw dropped and his head warmed up with intimacy as he saw her lean forward once more to assumed it might have been another grinding circle. Not realizing she was too close to him, he then knew what was going to happen as he found her hands on top of his.

As he felt the warmth of her breasts press like silk against his face, Peter forgot to blink, slow as it went, finding them beyond their normal size after she'd been officially shirtless. Also discovering an invigorating aroma he didn't seem to know beginning to dominate the room, or around him. An attribute Denise added on her own as she made sure it settled around Peter once she rubbed it on him well enough. The skin that marked his face with growing heat had touched him without the actual need to move. Such a sensibly smooth warmth they produced as Peter's face was smoldered by their former perspiring thrust _"Dior, eh? Yeah, that'll work, although I would've gone with Channel"_

After Denise stood away once more to resume strutting, Peter wished he could think again. Even his mind was speechless. Never prepared to cherish that instant he almost hoped would happen again, unlike Denise who was glad it was over yet disappointed that she herself couldn't forget it happened.

Having looked at porn before, his girlfriend was a totally different matter as she copied the states all those images were once in,

For every part of her which became more visible, those goose bumps automatically converted themselves to the cortisol that gave his hormones the prickly feeling any man would have between the indecisive aroma of sexual magnetism and throbbing rapture.

And once Peter could think again, his mind nearly got rid of all logic as he knew he was in what he drowsily thought was a great concert so exclusive; no one else in the solar system deserved invitation. Not even the synthesizer engulfed reincarnates of the Beatles themselves. Giving him the idea this seemingly supernatural tick was what made him confound the situation for a dream. One he had never felt more wide awake within in his whole life.

He went as far to figure Denise wasn't Denise at all. Someone special, someone he'd never met before, not like this. An angel sent down from eternal delight to make his heart smile, but even more than the rest, someone hot, even when she herself used to compare stripping to sticking your head in the freezer when it came to security. Except when she knew that now, no one should do it unless they felt hot, very hot. In fact, if Peter could interject, he'd say it would've just been easier if she'd live in the freezer.

Too bad this was better.

Sooner or later, all the patience in the world was now with Peter, looking at her move without the wonderment of how she'd learned it and made it look so easy. Back with Denise, she had completely forgotten her initial reaction to this next obligatory move for an atmosphere of hormonal sensuality too strong to make her cease either the groove or Peter's stimulated spectatorship.

"_Choice usually has something to do with it. Or else the other third of statistics would say strippers are "hypnotized" by convention to dance as professional as it can get. Normally, first timers like yourself need to be very careful if an accidental orgasm might be on the way. The only person qualified for this has to be Peter, no ifs, buts or even opinions about it!"_

It took the second verse for Denise to heed this on time. According to Steve, during their intensive practice hours, she'd agreed to assemble the next verse's second half to remove the third most obvious article of clothing: her pants.

The difficulty wasn't going to disappear, otherwise it would've been unfair to let it happen without considering that she didn't see it coming. If she couldn't do this without feeling the least bit, shall she think it, tempted, then there wasn't even a point to consider.

Peter tried to shake the value, meanwhile, for one measly moment to recover from that peepshow he knew was unqualified for. If he didn't, he'd go insane. The music almost did a good job, having gone only that far as the coincidental faithfulness of the lyrics had on every level. Dave Gahan's voice reverberated into their souls, trying to posses Peter towards the seventh heaven by using his girlfriend to raise that chill inside his body called spiritual and physical compassion. The insanity was worsening when he knew it was controllable as long as it was still present.

All Denise had laid on him were appetizers; her job was to make sure the next step came in the most arbitrary form so Peter could understand and feel the substance meaning of entertainment.

She allowed the hip wave to snap her out of the brief doubt and continued listening to the verse up until "because I like to practice". That's when the queue to resume undressing arrived. It came to her as a fact in closing her eyes once she began teeter totting her hips knowing it was the only thing Peter would notice.

Her sightlessness could not comfort her amply as she turned towards Peter's direction, unzipped her jeans, and leaned. Her borderline apprehension was easily cured after she chose to pay no attention to Steve's warnings, for a good cause. Denise knew who she was, and for that, she knew what she was doing, especially how audaciously, or more pertinently put, blindly she went out to do this.

_There'll be days_  
_When I'll stray_  
_I may appear to be_  
_Constantly out of reach_  
_I give in to sin_  
_Because I like to practice what I preach_

Steve was wrong. For Peter to enjoy this, she had to allow the illicit autonomy to envelop all over her as much as it did to him so she wouldn't feel as ashamed as she did after letting Peter's face compress against her chest.

This was good motivation once her eyes immediately dilated control over the dance floor, which was hers again, making the freedom of sliding her pants down the opposite of conventionally degrading, without prohibiting her torso from skipping a beat. It wasn't as orgasmic as Steve had stressed, but Denise still felt somewhat enlightened, knowing Peter was looking at the other half of what most guys could only dream of imagining. She supposed her clandestine humor was made for motivating her into enjoying this in the same way her boyfriend tried to.

Just as her matching glasses and bra, her semi-translucent garters, which she was easily pulling off without stockings to cling onto, were the inverted color of her skin, especially the vanilla shaded tan lines surrounding them.

Out of her many interrupted puzzlements vacating her mind, Denise didn't mind if Peter was to wonder where she might have bought this on such short notice, though she swore not to tell after all.

"_I have a cousin who works part time at Victoria's Secrets, okay? ENOUGH WITH THE QUESTIONS!"_

So far, it was climactic, recharging the overpowering growth in his stomach. An ecstasy so powerful, it was just another reason to believe this was a mixture of dreamlike insanity. And if that was the case, this was the most realistic dream anyone in the world had ever experienced in their lives, such that Peter didn't even know what to look at anymore, despite this being his "dream present" as he had promised himself. With all due respect, he was looking at Denise.

But in her underwear! Unfamiliar as staring into a model's body with her head in it.

_I'm not trying to say_  
_I'll have it all my way_  
_I'm always willing to learn_  
_When you've got something to teach_  
_And I'll make it all worthwhile_  
_I'll make your heart smile_

Fairly disputable once the socks were off at first, either it was the burgundy nail polish on her toes or her skin that seemed more likely to glisten exultantly. By removing just that, Denise had shown Peter how gleefully dedicated she was in getting this through, but after taking most of her clothes off, she also proved to have no weakness. Not even her dance that at times gave her curves a form to rival the authenticity of mountains as her body shifted movements.

The last thing Peter wanted was to feel shocked and consider it a bad thing. Even dreams could feel like nightmares when out of the preoccupying insanity, someone might realize they were uncomfortable all along. But after coming across it, Peter found Denise to be a little bit more attractive now, thanks to her voluptuary charisma, accompanied by the way she began to stretch even farther with each dance. For someone who seemed so young, she was so womanly, reminding Peter of a blonde Miranda Kerr in her prime with petite sunglasses.

Too bad for Denise, it was more of a prearranged routine than concern to know Peter's true emotions. In which case it came time to practice what Steve considered his second favorite strip move, having already graduated to bathing suit uniformity.

"_It's called the slap and tickle. Something if _**_I_**_ were to teach, it'd be too advanced for noobs according to the pros….well I say advanced my ass! Literally! Step by step, here's what you got to do…"_

The uttering of the word "teach" incited her impulse to metrically rotate until she knew Peter was right behind him, indisputably staring from her ankles all the way up to her thighs, and finally, at her wedgie inducing garters. If only Peter knew he wasn't supposed to feel too tempted just yet.

Denise ceased dancing as the second verse finished identically to the first and gently swayed from her ankles, opening her legs gradually. It was as Steve had told her, and would've shown her if he could, or if she herself could see him.

She slowly bent over, laying her palms on the table until she knew her firm rear was blatantly pointing at Peter, who now used to think solely her breasts had a considerable size.

Then she bent one knee to the side and straightened the other out to the other side, afterwards sliding her hand up the straight leg and raising her head over the corresponding shoulder to pretend to look back at him. She smiled in order to stimulate Peter into smiling too, only he was also hyperventilating in the process.

Stroking up her thighs until reaching her hind cheeks, Denise had at long last become tired of the tautology called organized dancing and grabbed her white cane. If Steve had taught her anything without mentioning it, maybe it had to do with creativity. Otherwise she wouldn't have made Peter jump with what she did to match, and slightly echo, the next words.

_Pain will you return it_  
_I'll say it again - pain_

SMACK!

Without half a doubt, Peter and his eyebrows jumped indeed. Denise had just clouted herself with the cane on the same place Peter was trying hard not to stare at.

"_That's right! You punish yourself! Nothing unrelated to the breast stroke can top that... well, maybe the spider, but that's like Lady Gaga's rank and we're just starting college!"_

She figured it was more efficient than using her hand like Steve had told her to. Hopefully, Peter didn't think it actually hurt as Denise thought it was supposed to tickle like this; there wasn't really much "pain" to associate.

And this she proved the second time she heard it.

_Pain will you return it_  
_I'll say it again – pain_

TWACK!

She couldn't help it, she loved the feeling, and the song forced her to develop the urge. Peter still kept on trying, but could barely help it. He didn't know if it was the instinctive testosterones that he was finally dominated by to put his poultry out of its misery, or his hands were attempting to prevent his intermediate ejaculation. As any man, he was enjoying this to the point of mulling over pointless coitus fantasies in order to feed his sexual appetite.

Denise sought that as fun, it being the easiest for her to perform intentionally without regret amongst the many moves within the art of corporeal taunt. She could feel as apprehensive as she wanted to about her upper body, but her backside was definitely something she'd show off like this. Allowing this mischievous arousing to make her experience freedom like never before in her teenage life.

But moving on, inspiration possessed Denise to make even the word "freestyle" underrated. The bridge's last part was Denise's chance to stand back up in order to give the rest of the steps a go. Arranging her patterns more thoroughly, she strutted her legs apart so she could squat down, first placing her cane in front in order to slowly grind forward towards it. Making sure it reached between her chest, caressing the bare portion of her breasts. She could never help but fling it onto the table after standing up, even more from hearing the word "pain" once the bridge finally ended.

_Pain will you return it_  
_I'll say it again - pain_  
_Pain will you return it_  
_I won't say it again_

This time around was the moment to return to basics as she stood and marched her legs one at a time, circling the table. Pulling off a few more neo-classical ballet spins with one chest to back grope and then a few grinding circles here and there, turning off all the candles except the last one which stood a yard and a half away from Peter, just like the table itself.

She imitated a showgirl's march when she twirled and lifted her legs, completely including her thighs, and making it back. It was unlike Denise to have worked out to develop such flexibility and flow with her sturdy physique; mainly one of many traits Steve didn't have to mention, when it came to talent over profession.

_Strangelove_  
_Strange highs and strange lows_  
_Strangelove_  
_That's how my love goes_  
_Strangelove_  
_Will you give it to me_

Mild as it was to the exercise and candle heat, all the sweat given to her worked efficiently on her façade, Denise's skin shined now like polished leather, highlighting mostly the muscles in her stomach and thighs. Not to mention her blonde hair, almost looking like she'd just washed her face, leaving some of the moisture behind.

Peter was the only one who knew this as he was masturbating too hard to safely ensure he wasn't going to accidentally give himself a vasectomy. The worst part was he didn't even have his hand anywhere near the inside of his pants when he still felt as if one of his testicles were going to burst. The tame insanity had gone that far at last, fueled by the song's ideal melody and Denise's unsuitably adorable dance.

The remaining chorus's replicates were shorter than before, so Denise rarely felt the need to use her cane. The song was coming to an end and all the choreography she and Steve planned was already beginning to decrease.

To make it simple, she was almost done.

_Strangelove_  
_Strange highs and strange lows_  
_Strangelove_  
_That's how my love goes_  
_Strangelove_  
_Will you give it to me_

Her choice of moves came as far as Denise could catch from learning. And all that remained from the song, no more than the chorus reiterating three more times, decreased her ideas even more.

"_You're not into repetition, neither am I. basically, stripping is kind of like dancing as you're showering. Or about to shower because you have to take off your clothes sooner or later, you know? Well, not to burst your bubble, but even though they all do, instead of dancing like a professional, strippers usually dance like bimbos, so you'll have to go with that"_

Peter had to be honest with himself when admitting he didn't have the prostrate, or what remained of it, to keep watching. Knowing lap dances required people to forcefully expose their entire self; he was farther from denying the image of his own girlfriend, without anything on, now that it was closer than ever, this meant he'd lose his mind over what only Denise alone was prepared for. He lacked enough sanity as he was, or remained, so he waited until the song was over, maybe he didn't have to feel purely happy to watch her move each separate part of her body with lesser guilt than before, especially when comfort didn't always have anything to do with happiness.

_Strange love_  
_Strange highs and strange lows_  
_Strange love_  
_That's how my love goes_  
_Strange love_  
_Will you give it to me_

The first chorus made it out to look like a short montage of all the adrenaline induced steps she'd enticed Peter with prior to this. Especially all the slap and tickles she nearly overdid pending they were a touch close to giving her an unexpected compulsion, and tan. As repetitive as it was getting, Peter found no other excuse but her delectable private parts concealed within all the dark fabric to get bored out of. It was what calmed him down when excluding the need to renounce the pleasure he was in and glad for.

Plus, he was going to need the respite for the second chorus. As each foot went on to be dodged by the next, Denise thought of maybe revealing what was left of her, making sure Peter would still see it coming only after it happened. For this, without losing anymore rhythm, her hands crosshatched arms, touching her shoulders before they pressed forward and slid the straps down.

At long last, Peter didn't care if his male intuition was hurting him on the inside. He may have been premature at sixteen to have thought he could handle this without the fret of insecurity. But even though two years of ripeness weren't much of a change, he was finally sure that they were just the right amount to finally give him the opportunity and treasure watching her take it all off. All he had to do was notice her hands unhook the article and let it loose.

The bra finally slid down.

Peter looked at it and then looked back at her. Her hands were censoring her now exposed bosoms, rubbing and then grasping them tight to please Peter who thought she was actually enjoying that freely, now ready to flash it all. She did, until she turned her back on Peter once again, pulling off another grinding circle as an excuse to grab her white cane and use that to cover herself yet again after getting up and returning to Peter's direction. Her body rocked back and forth for a good limit before she stretched her cane grabbing arm and revealed.

_I give in_  
_Again and again_  
_I give in_  
_Will you give it to me_  
_I give in_  
_I'll say it again_  
_I give in_

He was immediately turned on at the easy fact Denise, like any human being had shiny pink nipples underneath. Looking like eyes, Peter felt nervous to think they might be the only thing staring at him, as pointy as they were. If that wasn't enough, the sweat carried out onto each rim made her chest glimmer with highlight upon the gentle moonlight. So much dark music and clothing to butter up, and Denise still refused to consider herself borderline Goth. Even when the night gave the candles as a last resource of pure exposure, the strong shade surrounding her body with the presence of sensual mystery dancing alongside her like a shadow endeavoring to mimic human flesh.

They were finally off, so Denise took the freedom her topless fortitude gave her to hold the cane with her mouth and stretch her arms out, using her hands to race up and down, kneading amongst most of her glimmering skin. Knowing there was but one chorus remaining; she turned around and began shaking her butt in circular motion before grasping her hands on the knickers straps. Without warning or even hurry, she pulled them down until it reached her ankles.

The resulting view certainly rendered the need of separate Viagra useless for Peter. Throughout the whole night of what Peter assumed was controlled insanity, his consciousness of it being was what earnestly verified it. Other than her naked, corpulent bum, he was also looking at his girlfriend's vulva underneath, emerging from her backside's cleavage.

Denise couldn't help but giggle a few seconds from imagining Peter's face. Goth or no Goth, The music's band and herself became much more attractive when they turned dark. So for the first time in her life, it wasn't enough for her to just see black anymore.

_I give in_  
_Again and again_  
_I give in_  
_Will you give it to me_  
_I give in_  
_I'll say it again_  
_I give in_

Now Denise realized the song was close to an end, it was time for the grand finale. Denise clutched the cane once again, placed it in the middle of her back and grinded her bottom up and down, lubricating the cane and her backside as if it were a pole's surrogate. Adding more sweat to make her cheeks shine just as much, even more because of that same essence that came out between the dead end of hers and Peter's legs as he wasn't the only one with a drenched crotch anymore; apparently Denise was also struggling in controlling her triggered g spot.

She repeated this move twice before getting up and giving Peter one last breast stroke, unable to recall her insecurity all because of the sensuality that took such part of her values away. She even wobbled her chest around in order to make them rebound on each side as Peter gave himself no option but to watch as his face was engulfed with soft mass and persistent aroma. Both by this and when she twirled a couple of times, making her body seems longer and more exhaustive upon every move she'd show off.

By default of her licentious desire, Denise was actually having fun in the least anticipated way she ever considered, which was with pride.

_I give in_  
_Again and again_  
_I give in_  
_Will you give it to me_  
_I give in_  
_I'll say it again_  
_I give in_

He didn't know how she learned to dance like that, let alone why she was such an elegant tease all of a sudden. All he knew is that he reached it. The level of flawless ecstasy had come, enough to eradicate his insanity and remove the guilt in guilty pleasure. What started out as Strangelove finished as Girls, Girls, Girls by Motley Crue. And Peter didn't even have to admit she was actually naked, although at this point all that was left were the very specs Peter knew hid the beauty of the navy blue jewels within her eyes.

Whether it was life, family, sports or even the so-called vow he'd made with his best friend, they mattered squat to him, heck, they didn't even exist now. That one personality that took everything too seriously failed to envelop him twice, in the same way as it did to him the day he and Steve rested under the tree's shade. He didn't have to worry about anything, one of the most prevailing feelings someone could have if they did.

His one honest desire for the night was to watch his own girlfriend grant his long awaited birthday wish in front of him.

The downturn came as soon as he figured this all out, at the same time the music finished, the stereo had been turned off and Denise only began walking to him in her own birthday suit. Nevertheless, Peter found it no reason to frown and thought of thanking her, until her face approached his and soon, their lips met, leaving Denise to beat him to it after the kiss.

"Happy Birthday, Peter, did you like your presents?"

Now that her sweat and seamen coated legs rested on his lap, Peter could finally take the time to acknowledge her facial splendor upon attaching himself to it. It was all he really cared as the prime reason pertaining to their bond, having gone more physical than ever. Whatever insanity that was left within Peter's instinct absorbed itself into Denise's lips, driving her into the elated hyperactivity Peter had been ensnared inside of..

She may have owed him everything for what she'd manage to perform exquisitely, but Steve had been wrong about one thing: This was not just a lap dance, not anymore. Anyone could have an eighteenth birthday, only very few could experience the correct, true initiation towards manhood Peter had just gone through. The magical rite which thanks to Denise, Peter had finally been instigated through, and satiated enough that his new wish was for the world to have girlfriends like Denise, even though she'd always be only one amongst them.

They proceeded in making out the same way they were used to, allowing Denise to do most of the fumbling around him in order to let him speak.

"I loved them, but not as much as I love you" said Peter, reigniting the kiss. "They were the best presents I've ever had!"

Peter meant it, and he wanted to clap so badly if his hands weren't kneading her moist skin.

"I love you just as much Peter, and you deserve more, you've been such a good boy" she replied as both continued the once fulfilling excitement Peter had turned to lust, an emotion he´d restrained for too long and decided to let it go, proof being as Denise stopped and held the last candle from the table before replying and then giving Peter the chance to extinguish the last light lingering in the house.

"Now… it's time for your reward!"  
-

Thank you for reading this. I would rather not blabber on about anything else. I almost felt like I was back in that era. (hence why I'm sure Peter's birthday isn't actually in a leap year, but I'm no expert anymore)  
Thank you also for joining me


End file.
